Actions Speak Louder
by sugar free vanilla
Summary: Beckett doesn't escape entirely unscathed from the explosion in her apartment. Season 2 AU. Collection of oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

**Soooooo, this is a oneshot to fill a prompt I found on castlefanficprompts dot tumblr dot com from 'ELEPHANTSTHEYNEVERFORGET'. I don't think it's quite what they meant but this is how it turned out. AU Season 2. Beckett doesn't escape the explosion of her apartment entirely unscathed. ****This is appallingly written and not proofread, so my apologies. **

She won't talk to him. Or anyone, for that matter. He's set up residence outside her hospital room, sees almost every one of her visitors enter and exit the ward.

Lanie's been by everyday since Kate was admitted, each time leaving the room with a pinched expression and a _nuh uh _in Castle's direction. He has a feeling the twisted look on her face is her holding back tears.

Ryan and Esposito are almost as reluctant to leave as he is, but they gave in after the nurses gave them a hard time. Ryan has taken to bringing a whiteboard in with him that he can write on to communicate with Kate. In turn, she has taken to closing her eyes whenever Kevin enters her room. He comes out looking like a puppy that's been kicked. Espo is more stoic, although his hurt shows in the firm set of his jaw.

Jim Beckett, however, doesn't disguise his. Castle can hear him begging his daughter to talk to him, to look at him, even from outside the room. The pleading isn't getting through to her though.

Of course not. Because she can't hear it. Because she's _deaf._

The bomb, in her apartment caused what the doctors called 'acoustic trauma'. And now she is deaf. Irreversibly so, according to the experts Castle had immediately contacted.

Just thinking about it causes a wave of nausea to sweep through his body, has him dry retching over the closest bin. He can't remember the last time he ate, and can't stomach the thought of food.

Because the most extraordinary woman he has ever met is deaf. Her life will never be the same. And it's his fault. If it weren't for him, she'd have been safe from that… that psychopath. Castle slams his fist into the wall, hard enough that he's sure his knuckles are cracked but he doesn't care.

He needs to apologise, but he can't. Because not only won't she listen, but she _can't._ She can't. So he just sits with her, stays as she resolutely refuses to even glance in his direction, instead poring over the sign language books that the ENT had brought her.

After an hour and a half, he breaks, reaching for her. She flinches away from his touch. And now she's pushing him away, shaking her head and mouthing that she needs to be alone.

So he leaves. He has a plan.

A weekend spent in the New York Public Library and Castle's learnt enough to say what he wants to say. Well, he muses, not enough to say what he wants… but what he needs, yes.

He's surrounded himself with books on American Sign Language, even asked help (with unsteady hands and unsure actions) to improve his accuracy from the deaf browsers looking at the DVD selections for the hearing impaired. So yes, he's memorised what he needs to say, even if he has not a general understanding of the language, not even basic conversational vocabulary.

She's surprised to see him when he walks in, but she doesn't look displeased at his presence, which he takes to be a hopeful sign. If you'll pardon the pun.

Castle moves his chair over to where she's sitting in the other and takes her hands, imploring him with his eyes to hear him out (or so to speak).

He closes his eyes in concentration for a moment, centering himself before making the slow movements. She doesn't understand most of it, he knows; she's only been looking at the books and videos for a few days, but he knows the sentiment has reached her. He knows it from the almost smile on her lips and from the way she reaches for his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Castle," she speaks finallyand it's too loud, so loud and she must see him wince at the volume level because the next thing she says is hardly more than a whisper; _I'm sorry_. _I didn't mean to shout. _But he doesn't care because she broke her silence. Finally. Her voice isn't hers; it's disjointed - lack of use from the past week combined with the inability to hear herself, Castle reasons. "You're learning sign language? For me?"

He pulls out a notebook and scribbles a 'yes' on the blank page and her lips tighten again - written communication pisses her off. Castle knows this, knew this, from Ryan's vain efforts but still he hands her the envelope in which he has enclosed everything he wanted to say.

_Please, _he signs. He's sure she'll know that much; he's certain it's one of the first things the basic ASL manual taught. And she nods, confirming her comprehension, taking the letter from him.

He studies her face as she reads. As ever though, Kate Beckett is a blank mask. He envies her poker face. When she reaches the bottom of the page, she drops the page on her lap, raising her bandaged arms and signing out four letters: _R, I, C, K._

Castle's heart speeds as he recognises his name from the time he and Alexis had learned to sign their names for a project she'd had in the third grade. He supposes the use of his first name is due to it's length, but it somehow feels more intimate than 'Castle' even when not spoken aloud. Maybe especially so.

"It's not your fault." She croaks and when he refuses to meet her gaze, unable to accept her statement, she reaches out to him. Cupping his cheek, she turns his face towards her. "It's not." And somehow the sincerity in her eyes makes his heart ache a little less. Because she doesn't hate him, even if she is mistaken and he is to blame. And looking at her then, he realises with a jolt that he will spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her, though the task is a Herculean one.

**The prompt was 'Castle/Beckett is deaf and Castle/Beckett have to learn sign language to talk to them.' I'd set out intending it to be sort of fluffy but yeah, that didn't happen. Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I hadn't planned on continuing this, actually. But people were so lovely about it and a few asked for more, so here it is. This is lighter than the first part. I'm a sucker for a happy ending.**

**Let me know what you think!**

She isn't a cop anymore, and he is no longer her shadow.

She'd tried to resume her role as detective but, hard as she might, it wasn't working. She couldn't interview suspects without the aid of an interpreter, couldn't read the tells in people's voices. Couldn't communicate easily with her team, to her great distress. The quickfire theory building she'd loved so much was gone.

She came to him before she made the decision, after four months back on active duty (not that she'd seen much of the field. Aside from crime scenes, she'd found she was more useful at the precinct, unable to chase down leads by talking to the key players). He'd wiped the lone tear that glistened on her cheek away and she'd let him hold her, rocking her gently as she came to terms with the sacrifice of her beloved job.

That was over a year ago, though; she was happy now. Upon learning of Kate's resignation, months after she quit the force, Jordan Shaw had tugged at a few strings, gotten her an interview with the FBI - as a criminal profiler. Castle isn't surprised when she gets the job.

She comes to the loft at the end of her first week, her face split by a huge grin as she told him all about her work.

_Isn't it meant to be... _(he pauses then, not knowing how to sign the word 'confidential'. He inwardly reminds himself to find out) … _secret? The FBI?_

"Confidential?" Kate repeats the motion for secret as she speaks and he realises it must be the same. "Yes. But it's you." She smiles then, head cocked to the side, tongue peeking out between her teeth.

He's proud of his grasp on American Sign Language. He is far from fluent - it's mostly only those born deaf who have complete mastery. His knowledge of the English language does not help either; the syntax is entirely different with ASL and it throws him off. Kate is much better than him when it comes to that. She's admitted to him that he's better with the subtleties though, that he caught on quicker to the meanings behind the positions of the hands and the facial expressions. He disagrees.

The way she copes with the loss of her hearing cements his belief that she is utterly extraordinary. He paid for a top class signing tutor for her in the beginning, the three months she had off active duty, much to her chagrin. She'd almost refused but she'd seen he needed it, accepted with a tight press of her lips. At the same time, he'd been having daily lessons, thought she hadn't known he was learning too. She surprised him one day when she'd told him to share her session instead of paying for both. She'd been back at the 12th at the time, had flashed her badge and rolled her eyes when he asked her how she'd known he'd been having lessons. So they learnt together. And then they practised together. They went on sign language led tours of New York's famous places together, attended deaf events. Kate sat in the front row as Rick had nervously given his first public address in sign language while publicising the charity he had set up. The press release had aired on TV and she had curled up next to him as they watched from his sofa, wrapped in his arms.

And now she's back on that couch and he's handing her a glass of wine as he reflects on the comment she just made. _But it's me?_ He inquires, settling next to her. She ducks her head, doesn't meet his gaze.

"You've done so much for me, this past year. The least I can do is give you a little bit of confidential information. Don't go running that mouth of yours though." She smirks up at him from behind the curtain of her hair. He loves it long.

He brushes the strands away though, cupping her cheek tenderly as he lifts her face towards him. He holds it there for a second, running his thumb over her cheekbone and for a second he thinks he's going to kiss her. But he can't and he won't, shouldn't be asking for more than friendship from her, not when that's already so much more than he deserves. Not when her deafness is down to him. _Kate. You don't owe me anything. And whatever I do, it'll never be enough to make this right and-_

She grabs his hands, halting his words.

"Richard Castle. This is not your fault." Her voice is stern, her eyes intense as they bore into him. "You can't blame Jodie Foster for John Hinkley." She pauses for a second. "Although you can blame her for Nim's Island."

He laughs at the quip, pulling her into him, and they remain there in comfortable silence for a long while, chests rising and falling as they breathe in sync.

She speaks up again after a while, her voice small - barely more than a whisper. "Castle." She turns to face him. "I need to know. What we are - what you do for me, with me - the foundation, the sign language… this - is it - is it guilt?" She sounds so very sad, so very vulnerable that it shatters him. He closes his eyes for a moment, collecting himself. She takes his silence as confirmation, he realises as she pulls away with a pained noise, extracting herself from his arms and muttering something about seeing him around with her voice wavering.

"Kate!" He calls after her. He curses himself as he remembers she can't hear him, leaping to his feet and bounding towards her before she can reach the door. He grabs her and holds her to him. She resists for a moment before crumpling into him, her head against his chest. He realises she's crying when moisture soaks through his shirt. Pulling back slightly he leans down to rest his forehead against hers for a second, bumping his nose against hers. She calms, letting out a slight hiccup before the tears subside.

"Castle," She croaks, her voice raw. "Tell me it's not just guilt. Please. It can't just be guilt." She lets out a soft keen and he draws her to him again for a second before letting go of her, needing his hands. He chuckles softly as she holds onto him, but gently pushes her away.

_Kate,_ he begins. He pauses momentarily, bracing himself for her reaction to what he is about to tell her. _In the beginning - I needed ASL to talk to you - to apologise. I was guilty. I am guilty. I always will be. But it was never just that, Kate. Never. _

A watery smile graces her face and she moves into wrap her arms around him again but he stops her.

_Kate._

He raises his right hand, points to his chest.

Clenching both hands into loose fists, he pulls them towards his heart, crossing them as if drawing someone into him for a hug.

He drops his left hand, his right opening, palm up as he extends his arm towards her.

_I love you._

He's said it. Now he waits, eyes closed, for her stammered apology. For her to let him know she doesn't feel the same way, as she rushes out his door and out of his life.

His eyes startle open. Because _she's kissing him. _She pulls away when he doesn't kiss back, frozen in shock

He looks down at her and she looks up at him. She's crying again, her face shimmering with tears as she smiles at him - wide but uncertain.

She draws back, echoes his earlier movements, adding another. Her right hand is palm down, pinky and thumb extended outwards as the other three fingers are tucked in. She slides the hand to the side and back.

_I love you too._

He gapes at her, and she laughs, tugging at the back of his neck and pulling him to her lips. And then he's kissing her.

He never wants to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

**I thought I was finished with this, but apparently not. I think I'll probably add more at some point, exploring this universe. Just a short little piece that wanted out. Hope you enjoy!**

His fingers glide over the keyboard, the relentless _tap tap tap_ occasionally accentuated by the splash of a tear against the plastic letters as everything he yearns to tell her but doesn't spills onto the humming white document page.

_I wish you could hear her laugh - it sounds like sunshine, warm and bright and utterly essential for life._

_I wish you could hear the way she says 'Mommy', the adoration in her voice that makes it so clear how much she loves you, even in those two syllables._

_I wish you could hear the way she sneezes; this snuffling little squeal that she gets so embarrassed about._

_I wish you could hear the way her words pitch when she's excited, get higher and higher until they're barely within a range to be audible to humans, I swear._

_I wish you could hear the little noises she makes, so like you. The way she harrumphs at a bad joke, or clicks her tongue against her teeth when I've done something to wind her up._

_I wish you could hear the passion in her voice when she's found something she loves - a book or a word or a concept that she feels so deeply that it tumbles right out of her in the most beautifully eloquent of ways, despite her age. She's going to be ten times the writer I am, I promise you._

_I wish you could hear the spark of intelligence that suffuses some of the things she says - she's so wise, Kate, and I know you know that. Know you can read it on her face as she signs along with her words… But there's such _gravity _to her voice, and you know she understands what she's learnt so effortlessly that it's become a part of her. She gets that from you. The fierce intellect._

_I wish you could hear the pride in her voice when she tells people about you. About her brilliant mother who took tragedy in her stride and used it to become stronger. Her mommy who finds the bad guys just by looking at their behaviour, who is so clever she doesn't need anything other than that. Who is so beautiful, and so kind, and so brave - it breaks my heart into a million pieces and then puts it back together, stronger than ever, every time. The strength of her love for you._

_I wish you could hear-_

It gets too much, longing lurching from him in a sob rather than through his trembling fingertips.

He just wants her to be able to experience the joy that is their daughter in every possible way, wants not to see the desperate hunger to know on her face as the kid tosses some tease of an insult over her shoulder on her way to her bedroom.

He'll always tell her after, in a few sure gestures but - it's not the same. The joke has passed, or the humour of it is tainted by the sadness that, for the most part, they no longer feel. Their life is so full of colour and love; a great deal of the time, that's more than enough.

But today, the guilt that he thought he'd put to bed _years _ago is rearing its ugly head.

Their daughter's hesitant face as she asked him whether or not she should take part in her school concert, because she loves singing and playing but _are you sure it won't make Mommy too upset because she can't hear? _is on heart-breaking repeat in his minds' eye.

He'd tucked her gangly nine year old body into a hug, pressed a kiss against her temple and told her not to worry, of course she should perform and that her mother would be nothing but proud of her.

The last part was perhaps a partial lie - of course Kate would be proud. But sad too. That quiet sadness that sometimes hits her in the dead of the night and soaks his neck with the tears it lets loose.

She wishes she could hear.

He wishes she could hear.

Doesn't change a thing.

He snaps his laptop shut as he hears the door to the loft opening, stands to greet his wife. Hums his love for her against her cheek so that she can she can feel the words vibrate through her skin and takes her coat, hanging it in the closet. He turns around to find her still standing there, not having moved to collapse onto the sofa like he'd expected, like she usually does after work.

Instead she regards him with a soft smile and brushes her hand through his hair, tension draining from him with her touch.

"I love you," She tells him earnestly, uncertainty of why he looks so sad written in her features as he pulls her in for a hug, returning his embrace and murmuring soothing sweet-nothings until he breaks away, eyes considerably lighter.

Moments like this are all he needs to alleviate the guilt that still crushes him from time to time.

He doesn't need to use his hands to make his message clear. It's all there in his eyes.

_I love you too._


End file.
